Page 15 of Sparks Fly
“Royce.” My tone is steady. “I don’t appreciate reading that you ducked out of briefing.”
“Why did I have to be there?”
“Because it’s part of the job. You can’t just skip out when you feel like it, it doesn’t work like that.” I scrub my face.
“I thought racing for my dad’s team would have perks,” he snarls, and I hear the scoff of a laugh that catches at the back of his throat.
“Doesn’t work that way, Royce, and you know it. You want to race in the big league, prove that you deserve to be there before I drop you from your seat,” I threaten him and I find myself running my finger on the inside of my shirt collar, trying to loosen it.
“You wouldn’t.” I don’t miss the way his voice trembles.
“Try me,” I grit out before I cut the phone off and toss it across the back of the car.
Closing my eyes, I inhale deeply and remember that I am thousands of miles away and that I am taking this week off.
Sort of.
Rage still simmers beneath the surface, and I can’t stand his self-entitlement. He is a good driver, and he deserves to be world champion, but with that pig-headed attitude, he won’t get it. He is arrogant and spoiled and thinks his shit won’t stink.
“Sir,” the driver says, pulling me from my head as he slows outside the restaurant.
“Thank you.” My voice is quiet as I open the door and step out onto the pavement. “Could you take my bags to the apartment? Just leave them with the concierge.” I give him a smile, and he confirms with a nod before pulling out onto the evening traffic. I just stand for a moment before looking at the restaurant.
Stepping up to the entrance, I take a quick glance over my shoulder at the marina that is in the distance and smile. I needed to make sure I headed over there to check on Billy and the yacht.
The maître de sees me before I see him and he meets me at the entrance.
“Monsieur Lexington.” His smile is wide as he claps his hand into mine, shaking it firmly.
“Good to see you.” I give him a chin lift and a wink as he scoops a menu up and leads me to my favourite seat in the restaurant.
“We weren’t expecting you until the summer break,” he admits as he holds his hand out for me to sit and I thank him.
“I know, that was my plan but just needed to get away for a week or so.”
He gives a knowing nod. “The usual?”
“The usual.” I smile. King crab salad to start and the truffle macaroni for mains washed down with a Léoube 2022.
He doesn’t even place the menu down, just keeps it close to his chest as he walks back to his station. My eyes follow him for a while before I am back looking across the dimly lit harbour.
I could live here, I think.
I only have Royce at home. He is big enough to handle himself. I can work from here, I can fly back and forth for the races. Of course, I am not at every race, but I do like to have my presence there. It’s good for current and future sponsors to see the face behind Saint Onyx, for them to see the brand and what we represent.
I’m not alone with my thoughts for long when I see a waiter bringing over my bottle of wine and I give him a warm smile.
“Monsieur,” he greets me as he uncorks the wine and pours me a small amount to taste.
I sniff before taking a mouthful. I give him a confirming smile as I place my wine glass on the clothed table, and he fills it halfway before sinking the bottle into a wine cooler.
“Merci,” I mutter as he walks away and drag my glass towards me, and I find myself sighing.
I never expected to be a bit of a playboy at forty-six, but my wife, well, ex-wife and Royce’s mother, done a good job on fucking me up so bad that I never wanted to be in love again.
I chase after the girls I want, play the game, have my way with them, then ghost them. Dick move, yes, but before anything happens, I have my lawyer draw up an NDA. Nothing gets out. They agree to not breathe a word and I get sex on tap.
Disgusting, really. But this way I get my cake and eat it.
